Three Words On an Index Card
by staceycj
Summary: Christmas story set in S5


Leaky pipes weren't a problem, they could be fixed. All it took was the right parts, some time, some elbow grease, and patience. Experience had taught him how to fix a leaky pipe, taught him which parts to buy, what to do when the parts were too expensive and you had to improvise, when you had to fix the bathroom sink, because it was the only repairable source of running water in the entire run down apartment you were staying at for the next month. Experience in fixing things, he had. Dean thought he had experience and known how in fixing his brother too. 26 years to be exact. Dean thought he understood better than anyone else in the entire universe how to fix his little brother, how to make everything okay, how to talk to him without causing those little wrinkle lines in his forehead to make themselves known. Once it had been easy to fix his brother, once he had had the right words, the right food, the right anything. Now it was like he was trying to fix a leaky pipe and all he had was a jigsaw.

"Dean. I'm headed into town, Bobby gave me a grocery list." Dean heard him and wondered if that was what grown ups did. Did they have to tell people where they were going and what for? Or was that simply another way that Dean was keeping his little brother….little? He pulled his head out from underneath Bobby's sink and looked at Sam for a moment, trying to decide what he could and couldn't say, what he should and shouldn't say.

"Okay."

"Can I take the car?" That Dean knew for certain wasn't something adults asked to do. That was something teenagers had to do when they wanted to take their Dad's car.

"It's as much your car as it is mine." Sam's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Dean didn't give him time to ask a question, he stuck his head back under the sink and continued to fight with a stubborn pipe.

"Is there anything you want or need?" Sam finally asked.

"Nope. I'm fine. Thanks."

"Okay then. I'll be back later."

"Whenever." He said and twisted the pipe. He heard Sam's heavy footfalls walk away, the door open and shut and Dean let out a sigh. He wanted to know when Sam was going to be back, where he was going, and to remind him to keep his cell phone on him. But those were things you asked a child that you didn't' completely trust. He had to prove to Sam that he was an equal partner and an adult. He just sure as hell hoped that he was going about it the right way. All of his life he had been trained, conditioned to protect his brother, to be there for him, to make sure he didn't get hurt, to be his mother and his father, and now…now…he didn't know what to do. All of that training, those instincts were still right there, but he knew that he had to keep them under wraps, knew that he had to let his brother grow up, he had to let Sam be his own man, and it was killing him.

"Got that pipe fixed yet?" Bobby called from the entrance to the kitchen.

"Nope. I'm still working on it. Your plumbing is older than you are."

"Ha. Ha. Real funny you idjit." Bobby mumbled as he rolled all of the way into the kitchen. "You just better hurry up and have it ready for when your brother gets back. Gonna fix dinner, then you two knuckle heads are going to put up the Christmas tree."

"No need to put up a tree Bobby. Sam informed me that it is a pagan ritual."

"So what. We need a little God talk in this house."

Dean laughed. "I seriously don't think God wants to talk to us."

"Why not?"

"It's not like we've been good boys this year."

"Don't think he is much in the line of keeping score."

"Well he should."

"Why? Because you keep score?"

"Hell yeah I keep score. I've damn near ruined the world."

"Dean…"

"I opened the first seal, and I smothered Sam into opening the last. I'd say I'm as much or more to blame for this whole mess as Sam."

"Dean. I don't think God is keeping that kind of score. He saved your ass at the convent."

"It could have been one of the angels wanting to get this whole Michael vs Lucifer thing going on. Zachariah is a whack job and I wouldn't be surprised."

"If that's what makes you sleep better at night boy." Dean pulled his head out from underneath the sink and looked at Bobby.

"Nothing makes me sleep better at night Bobby." Bobby looked away from the intensity in the younger man's eyes.

"You still need to get yourself in gear. I want a Christmas tree and since I'm the crippled one I get what I want. Isn't that how it works?"

"Bobby…"

"Isn't it?"

Dean rolled his eyes and cracked a small smile. "Yeah. It is."

"I thought so. Now, hurry up before your brother gets back with the food. We can't have him cooking it." Dean gave a light chuckle.

"He never was a very good cook."

"Never had to be. Went from your cookin' to that pretty young girl's then to fast food. Never any need." Dean nodded, toyed with the wrench in his hand and then looked up.

"You think I did right by him?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you think I did right by him? You think I raised him the right way?"

Bobby mulled that question over for a second. "I think you did a good job. I think you did the best job anyone only four years older than someone else could do. I think you gave up most of your life so he could have one." Dean nodded.

"But, do you think that I'm responsible for his going off the deep end with Ruby?"

"That's tricky Dean."

"He said that it was."

"He did, did he?"

"Yeah, said that part of the reason he went off with Ruby was to get away from me, said he wanted to be treated like an adult. And I wasn't doing that."

"You do treat him like a kid."

"How do I treat him like an adult? I'm trying Bobby, I really am. It about killed me to not ask him what grocery store he was going to and when he would be back and to take his cell. I wanted to, but I didn't. Is that the kind of stuff he's talking about?"

"I think that's something that he should answer."

"I don't want to have chick flick moments."

"You seem to do a damn good job of having them with me."

Dean drug a hand down his face and sighed. "Yeah, yeah old man whatever."

"Seriously Dean, the only person that can answer that question for you is your brother." Dean shrugged and put his head back under the sink effectively cutting off all conversation with the older hunter.

***

Dean had been acting strange. That much Sam knew for sure. He thought, and thought was the key word here, that he and Dean were in a place where they were okay. Not that they didn't still have issues to work out and things to forgive each other for—not that he ever expected to be forgiven for bringing hell on earth, but he felt that each of them needed to forgive the other for some of the smaller injustices.

And Dean acing weird right now was understandable, Jo and Ellen had died not too terribly long ago, and despite Dean's one major push for Christmas two years ago, he wasn't a big fan of the date and he usually got quiet and introverted over the holidays, which Sam assumed was because it reminded his older brother that others had families, had moms, dads, aunts, uncles, wives, and children. All Dean had was Sam, and right now that wasn't much of a prize—if it ever had.

But there was something else in the weirdness. Like Dean saying that the car was just as much his as it was Dean's. Something about that statement alone felt wrong. He didn't want the car to be his at all, Sam had spent too many days driving the contraption alone, or with Ruby, Dean would die if he knew how many times Ruby had been in the passenger's seat in his beloved car. That would probably offend him more than any of the demon powers or demon blood. That car meant more to him now than even Sam did.

He pushed his thoughts aside and walked into the house through the kitchen and found his brother, dirty, standing by the sink and turning on the water.

"Get it to work?" Sam asked as he set the groceries down on the counter beside his brother.

"I think so." He said and knelt down and watched to see if water was going to leak out of the pipe. After a couple of minutes, Dean stood, and turned off the water. "Yup, I got it to work."

"Awesome."

"You get anything good at the store?"

"Just what Bobby told me to get."

"He's telling me we are puttin' up the Christmas tree after we eat."

"Why?"

"He seems to think that we need a little God talk around the house."

"You mean the God that probably wants nothing to do with me."

"Or me."

"Oh, you are his special son's vessel. He wants you. Me, I'm just the hell spawn's vessel. God wants nothing to do with me." Sam said as he unloaded groceries. He said it like he was telling Dean that they would have to buy salt before their next job. No malice, no resignation, no emotion of any kind.

"Lucifer is still his son."

"His rebellious son, his son who committed the ultimate sin, no, God chose correctly, he doesn't want me anymore than he wants Lucifer."

"I don't know Sammm….Sam." Dean said correcting himself midsentence and wiped his hands on the towel on the counter.

"I do. Pizza or pasta?" he asked.

"I'm cooking."

"I can do it Dean."

"I…." Another time when he wasn't sure if he was supposed to just let him do it, if that was a part of being a grown up or, if he should just insist like he normally would and wanted to. "Do whatever you want Sam. I'm gonna go wash up and get the tree out of the attic before Bobby has a fit on me." Dean left Sam to the groceries. Sam watched him go and the confusion from earlier simply deepened.

***

Bobby declared that there would be no shop talk while they were at his house over the Christmas season, and they were to be staying, no protestations welcome. So, essentially the boys, who had protested saying that there was an apocalypse to stop, were on a forced vacation and they were supposed to be enjoying it. They did enjoy the supper and the fond memories shared over a burnt pizza and beer.

All three of them pretended to be happy about putting the tree up and dressing the tree in lights, tinsel, and glass balls. Each had more unhappy recollections of Christmas than good ones. Too many loved ones who weren't there to share the day with them, too much blood shed, too many lessons learned had transpired. Finding the joy in the day was truly hard. The only true fun and joy came when Dean pulled an angel out of the box and held it up for the others to see.

"Look. Cas on a string." Sam looked over and then Bobby and they both laughed, some of the tension ebbing from them.

"Don't let Cas hear you say that."

"Oh what is he going to do? Not like he's got heaven's powers anymore." And just like that the laughter disappeared from the group. Castiel had no powers because he sacrificed his place among the heavens to help them clean up the mess they made. The angel was placed on the back of the tree and the rest of the decorating went very quietly, the Christmas music in the background turned from a soothing comforting familiar melody to something that soured on your stomach. Once the decorating was complete, they stood and looked at it for a moment and tried to partake in a typical Christmas family ritual and it felt fake, forced and they disbanded shortly later with a goodnight and silent retreat.

***

Christmas Eve, Bobby had Dean upstairs doing some chores that Bobby himself couldn't get up there to do any longer, and Bobby wheeled himself into the living room, to grab a book he thought might have the key to the puzzle he was working on in his head, when he found Sam sitting in front of the tree looking pensive.

"What's the matter?"

"I didn't get Dean anything for Christmas."

"I don't think he expected it."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point Sam?"

Sam starred intently at the tree and sighed. "I don't know anymore. I just….I just…"

"What Sam?"

"I don't even know. He deserves something."

"Maybe what he deserves has nothing to do with something he can hold in his hand Sam. You ever thought of that?" That got Sam to turn and look at Bobby.

"Like what?"

"That's something only you can decide." Sam nodded.

"I miss being able to go to church on Christmas Eve." He said suddenly. Bobby noted that the angel that Dean had placed on the back of the tree was now front and center and that seemed to be what Sam was looking at so intently.

"You can. No one is stopping you."

"I'd probably explode into hellfire if I walked into a church after what I did."

"You need to let it go Sam."

"I can't. I can't." He said and raked hands through his hair.

"One day you are going to have to. Just like one day Dean is going to have to forgive himself for his part."

"Dean did what he did without knowing what was going on. He was in Hell."

"Excuses." Sam turned sharply to Bobby, shock radiating off of him.

"What?"

"He knew what he was doing. He knew what he was doing when he volunteered for the hell gig and he knew what he was doing when he got off of the rack."

"Bobby. He was manipulated, he was in Hell."

"Sound familiar?" he asked and Sam's mouth closed. He understood Bobby's implication and didn't quite know what to do with it. "Go to church. You might find the gift that Dean needs there." Bobby said and wheeled away from the wayward young man.

***

Sam went to church that night. He walked in and expected to be damned to hell that very instant, expected a lightening bolt to strike him where he stood and destroy him. Instead he was welcomed by the priest with a hearty handshake and a smile, the priest didn't hesitate when he touched his hand like Castiel had last year, and his smile and his touch seemed to offer acceptance and reassurance. Sam was sure that the feelings were all in his head and most certainly not meant to be conveyed by the priest. He gave the man a smile and then shoved his hands into his jean pockets and hurried to find a seat.

He sat in the last pew and intended to keep to himself, but a young girl, dressed in her Christmas best sat down next to him, and then her older sister sat down next to her. Their parents sat in the pew ahead of them and he surreptitiously watched the two out of the corner of his eye and he watched the older let the younger rest on her shoulder when she started to fall asleep, midnight mass tended to wear out the young, and he thought of Dean, and many car trips in the back seat of the Impala, the day wearing on the younger and his head falling to lay on his older brother's shoulder while he slept.

The sermon was still ringing in his head, and his heart wasn't feeling quite so heavy, when he came back to the Singer Salvage yard. Every light was off in the house other than the Christmas tree, and it seemed to cast a supernaturally bright light into the living room. The lights were so bright and seemed to shimmer that it wasn't difficult to spot the middle of the tree where there was a rectangular object preventing the lights light from shining completely through. Curious, he went to the tree and found an envelope with his name scrawled on it in his brother's handwriting.

He picked it up and looked at it for a moment before he opened it. He decided long ago, ever since the phone call calling him a monster, that it was best to just take the lumps, to rip the band aid off and deal with whatever was underneath it.

There was a simple index card inside. He turned it writing side up and it said simply:

I forgive you.

Sam stumbled back and read the three words again, and again.

"It's a powerful thing to be forgiven." The priest had said. "Jesus died so we could be forgiven, and this time of year we should forgive others for their mistakes." The words kept echoing in his mind. Sam felt that power, felt the rush, felt the relief, felt love. All it took were three words on an index card from the one person in his life who had loved him for all of his mistakes, for all of his faults, for just being him.

Sam took the card and went into the room they were sharing, and found his brother asleep on his stomach, his normal position. He starred at him for a while, and then said softly, "I forgive you too Dean", kicked off his shoes, his jeans and overshirt and crawled into his own bed.

"Thanks Sammy, Merry Christmas." Dean said softly into the dark.

Sam startled a little and then replied. "Merry Christmas too Dean. Thank you."


End file.
